The Dúnedan
by Dirkkessler89
Summary: Written for the time just after return of the king. Mostly based off of the books not movies. About one of the last ranger's story through the aftermath of the defeat of Sauron. Rated T for violence and themes. Please review.
1. The prancing Pony

The way she continued to look at me was not unnerving anymore.

as I have traveled the lands of Eriador, I have seen the same look in many people's eyes. The Dúnedain have always been noticed by all beings as set apart. For one there are few and those of us left are a hardy race who prefer the company of elves or solitude to the presence of the more crude men in the villages such as Bree. For another they think that a lifestyle such as mine leads to an unhinged aura, or at least that's what they think they see in me and my fellow rangers. What they do not realize is that we are descendants of a prouder race than theirs our stature is a remnant of the mighty kings of Númenor. I stand six foot at thirty years old, but with a ranger's life span I will likely gain another two or three inches before I reach my full height and enter my prime which is relatively short for a Dúnedan and as I am hardly taller than the local men that I am spying on she is most likely wondering at what most people do. To them the valiant history of the second age are fairy tales but the brightness in my eye is from the elvish in my blood and my formidable presence comes from the weight of a majestic inheritance of power. Now the girl has realized that I can see her and quickly turns away and I refocus my attention on my mark. The man I am watching is one of the most honest but loudmouthed villagers in Bree. I wish to return home as soon as can be managed and although I wouldn't mind entering into conversation with breelanders, they are always wary of rangers and I can obtain news and information faster by simply eavesdropping on a few hobbits or Bree men. This one has dark brown hair, a jovial face and dirty clothes from working his humble field just outside of the gate. Currently, he is talking to the large innkeeper Butterbur and his assistant, Nob, I think, the man is Barney Thistlewool. Their conversation is starting to get more serious as the initial greetings are over and only my sharp ears can hear their topic.

" _How much of your crop this year are you shipping to the shire?"_ Asked the innkeeper. " _Nearly all_ " came barny's reply " _the hobbits are rebuilding faster than what I thought but for now they still can't grow anything in the soil this season, it's too late"_

I had talked to Sam shortly before I came here and he had told me as much. The shire had rid itself of Sauramon but it would take a generation before his devastation could be undone. The door opens and two surly men enter with foul looks and I can tell that they have traveled. As they sit and nob serves them, butternut returns to barny. " _I hardly can bear serving them_ " he says " _I would rather Bill just wander off to live with his dark friends away from bree"_ Barney looks mildly confused, " _whotcha got against ferny?" he's bad business and I've began to take him as a dark omen."_ " _you see, a little over a year ago I had a little company of hobbits in here"_ Barney looked up " _I think I might know of the hobbits that you're talking about"_ Butterbur nods " _I would think you would, that was the most disruptive night that the prancing pony has ever seen I lost four good plates and two of my mugs, but anyways, the hobbits that did the disappearing act was none other than Frodo Baggins and on the same night that ranger strider joined them and fled Bree to never be seen again until of course Frodo's return last month"_ Barney looked interested but confused " _how does Ferny play in?" "Well" said the barliman "the hobbits and the ranger left being chased by terrifying hooded men on black horses and Ferny seemed in some kind of pact with the riders. Just last month to, he was in league with the plague of wretches mucking up the shire."_ Barney understood now and they both lookedwithBill with his companion who were themselves deep in talk making drawings and looking sinister. When the pair saw the attention from Butterbur and the looks from other patrons they stood and left. Their exit takes them directly past me and though my hood is hiding my face I catch a whiff.

 _Orc_


	2. The defense of Bree

It is unmistakable, my travels have taken me well past the eastern borders of eriador and the misty mountains and the unpleasant smell immediately triggers me to feel for my hunting knife at my side. They hurry past without a glance.

This has answered my worst fears. Just one month ago, with the events in the shire, myself and my mentor Rhar went to Hobbiton and spoke to Frodo. We approached his door unseen but at our knock we found him seemingly expectant. Normally we would never have been so direct but we knew in what state Aragorn had left and this hobbit had the details of the end of the great enemy and could be trusted. He spoke of the ordeal of the nine companions through the war and at last he came to the ascendancy of Aragorn to king of gondor. He had been crowned as we had heard and before Frodo had left he gave him one last message for the dúnedain. Our exile was over. The wanderings of the men of the West since the fall of Isildur and the diminishing of the kingdom of Arthedain could now end. All of the Dúnedain were to join the people of Gondor and our Chieftain in Minas Tirith. The news was unbelievable, over a thousand years of life in the West had come to an end. Despite the rejoicing amongst ourselves and the thought of peace across middle earth, I am still nervous. The shire and indeed much of eriador has high hopes and Sauron is destroyed but remaining orcs have been roaming across the land, destroying and killing in the death throes of their race.

Two weeks after leaving Frodo to finish his book that he is writing, the last remnants of the rangers in the West were ready to leave just twenty five in all. Some have died in conflict, some were further east and have already answered our Lord's call and the Dúnedain have simply diminished to a tightly knit group. My father Araval died fighting orcs and fell protecting a poor village near the misty mountains. My mother is one hundred and still beautiful and waiting with my people in the North downs.

Two weeks ago, on the eve of our departure east, Carandir returned from scouting. An orc unit was in the weather hills. Not some raiding party but a real military unit left over from the orcs of the white hand headed who knows where. The danger was realized in time however and now here I am looking for signs of their presence or intentions. I made weather top in two days of travel but the orcs had trailed off already towards Bree but the citizens seem unaware of the threat. Bill ferny however was different. He was one of the specimens of men that I despised, willing to sell his neighbors into slavery or worse for a bit of silver.

After a brief meditation I see that Butterbur is closing the doors. It is planting season and a week day, no one is staying late. I get up to exit and he seems to see me for the first time. My dark cloak hid me in the corner and I had not ordered respite whilst I spied on the locals. He lets me out without a word and with less suspicion than normal. With the leaving and ascension of who they knew as strider, they have started to gain an inkling that rangers are not simply the wanderers they call us.

Ferny exited the pony a while ago but my nose can still pick up his foul stench and I follow it towards the main gate. One row of humble houses back from the breelanders trusted wall, the two men are quietly moving. I move soundlessly behind them. If they are not in league with orcs for some plan then I do not know what their actions could mean. The wall looms ahead, it is shut for the night hindering all but the rangers who have always scaled it whenever we please. The two men separate. Bill approaches the gate as the other slowly climbs the stairs with a blade behind the sentry on watch. I pull a smaller knife from my belt and take aim at the figure but just before I throw, hear footsteps and look down to see Ferny charging me. I take a mere second to draw my long knife, step aside and slash his throat before a I turn to throw again but in that split second, the other man stabs the sentry from behind and throws a torch into a brazier before my blade finds its mark in the back of his skull. My sharp ears here the approach of many feet and I realize that the orcs must have been in waiting for the signal to attack. I have always respected bree for their tradition of maintaining a gate closed at night and guarded, but tonight it does them no good. I act quickly, throwing a torch from a nearby wall onto the thatch roof of a shed and the flames rise high. I then go to the first house I find and kick open the door. The inhabitant emerges bleary eyed and startled and I see that it is Barney. " _quickly"_ I tell him " _sound the alarm, Bree is under attack."_ He seems in disbelief but seeing my dark green cloak his eyes register that the danger is real. He nods then runs down the street giving the horn call of bree " _Foes! Danger! To arms!"_ I am satisfied and turn back to the gate.

The orcs had paused evidently expecting Ferny and his partner to throw open the gate but upon hearing the commotion, they were now throwing ropes and scaling the wall. I stand fast in the space on the road before the gate and wait. I need to give time for the peacefully farmers of Bree to prepare for battle. When the first of the hideous bodies step onto the parapet I hold my long knife in one hand and a torch in the other and shout " _O Elbereth Gilthoniel!"_ The attackers pause at the words of their ancient enemies but few now can speak the elvish tongue and when they see no light haired warriors they come pouring over in a rage. I curse softly, normally I would have a bow, or at least a sword or staff, but for my scouting, I traveled light and fast. I hold my ground and spin into the first orc dodging his blade and stabbing through his eye. As he falls I bludgeon the next enemy over the head but although my blows are strong, and my arms skilled at war there are too many. The breelanders are only now trickling out in old leather armor and carrying simple swords and pikes. I fall back to where they are forming to take the brunt of the attack and they accept my presence without question. The last of the orcs seem to have entered the town and I estimate around thirty, not as many as I expected but too many for this collection of poorly armed men and hobbits before them. " _Hold together and form a line."_ Although difficult, I think that we stand a decent chance and the group listens, obediently stretching across the street. The orcs charge and I curse again as they separate. Most are rushing the defenders but some delve into the side streets to ransack the houses. I throw the flaming torch at the fastest orc knocking him to the ground slowing the leaders, the next ones fall upon the men and hobbits to a bloody effect. Some orcs fall but I already see two hobbits and one farmer prone in the street I dive into the oncoming attack with speed and experience slashing with my longknife and a short sword from one of the fallen hobbits. After another thirty seconds or so, I have dispatched another six assailants, and the townspeople are outnumbering the orcs. I fall back and take four of the men who just joined their neighbors off to the side. The screams of women and children being dragged from their homes has already reached us and we charge one alley where orcs are about to enter another door I kill the first one and leave the other three for the men behind me as I rush past and turn towards more screams. I am too late as the two orcs in front of me behead a woman and her young son in front of their house but I exact swift and violent revenge cleaving the first ones head open ducking under the second's axe to thrust my knife under his armor. Pain. I am thrust forward as an arrow penetrates my cloak and left shoulder. I turn and throw my knife which buries itself in his bow which he drops and runs. I sprint after him onto the main Street past the breelanders just finishing off the last marauders, back onto the wall and over the gate into the night.


	3. To Fornost

The orc thinks that he can lose me easily but I speed after him like a dart. My eyes can see as well as his even in the dark and rangers have always been masters of traveling on our feet both fast and far. After only another minute I dive, tackling the large orc to the forest floor, he struggles but I threw him into a tree as we fell and now I am holding my last little knife to his throat. He is cursing at me in the black speech which I understand but my knowledge of their language is weak. I think about what to ask. I have not killed him yet because I have questions. Our scout Carandir had found a full orc battalion, many more than those who invaded Bree. I ask him " _where are the others!"_ He is surprised and furious that I can speak the language of mordor. But I press the knife deeper against him until he mutters three words, north, journey, and Fornost I think. He swings up his arm with his own knife but I quickly end him and sit back. My mother and the other Dúnedain are near Fornost in the North downs.

I look at the orc, his body is useless to me. Like elves, the Dúnedain value all life but orcs and corrupt men are scum that must be fought by warriors. Quickly I return to Bree. It takes mere seconds to rescale the wall. The new sentry starts and begins to draw a weapon, but recognizes me as the dark ally from the fray. I enter the center square to a site of grief. All of the orcs lay piled dead and ready to be carted off and burned. Altogether nineteen townsfolk are respectfully laid together dead. Nine defenders and ten women and their children. I see Barney Thistlewool and his daughter amongst them. The survivors are attempting to sort out the events. At Barney's horn call they all armed themselves and rushed to the gate, drawn by the flaming shed that I had set ablaze. " _But how did Barney know?"_ Asked Butterbur mournfully " _I told him just this afternoon that Bill was bad news_ " I look and see him and his compatriot scornfully laid apart from the others. Butterbur looks at me with a questioning look. I speak to him " _I followed Ferny out of the prancing pony to where he and his fellow were carrying out a plan to bring the orcs into bree."_ Many indignant exclamations rise from the citizens but I speak over them " _I was looking for the orcs as there are more than those who lay here."_ All eyes turn to the foul heap and the men tighten the grip on their weapons. " _I believe that their main force is farther north but I need the second fastest horse and rider to travel to hobbiton, brandybuck, and the shire to warn them of the danger."_ I receive blank looks and and one question from nob " _why the second fastest?"_ I looked over the people gathered " _because my people are in imminent danger and I need your fastest horse to reach them at the North downs."_ Many seemed surprised that a Dúnedan "had" people but one ran off to collect his mount and I look at Butterbur. He flinches at my intense gaze but thinks and says " _well Barney used his mare for plowing but she's the best nag in bree"_. Another townsperson goes to get her and most of the others scatter to tend to their families.

I enter the tavern which has been opened to accept the wounded and sit. Nob brings a light ale and some bread whilst I hear an exclamation behind me. A woman has seen the amount of blood spread over my left shoulder and approaches to dress it. I motion her to wait and quickly remove my outer cloak, I also remove a herb from my belt. The wound has stopped bleeding. The shot had been surprisingly weak through my thick outer garment and leather vest and I had pulled it out immediately before I chased the orc. I cannot reach the awkward spot however and I silently accept the woman's help as she reaches forward. As I eat, three men approach and introduce themselves as Wintergreen, Burgher, and Haymitch. They understand my expertise and question me " _will the orcs return?" "Are you leaving now?" "How many more are there?" "How many of you are there?"_ I hold up a hand and finish eating the quick sustenance in front of me, I will need my strength. " _I think that you are safe, the rangers have been tracking many orc packs from a distance and most seem to all be heading north. I would still maintain the utmost caution however."_ As I look carefully at them they nod in relief and agreement. " _However their path threatens my people" "how many more orcs are there and how many of you are there?"_ The one called wintergreen asks " _too many and not enough I reply"_ I throw on my cloak, thank the impromptu medic, and stalk outside. The men follow. " _Take those and burn them far from inhabitation."_ I point at the orc pile. I then go back to the alley where the blood from orcs and the mother and child is still clear, along with my own. I find my long knife and wipe it clean sheathing it. Returning to the square I see the mare brought for me and mount it. I have not ridden in a year since I was in rohan but it comes easily back. The men give quick but sincere thanks and a grateful hobbit runs up and hangs a waterskin and bundle of food from the saddle. I nod to the people and nudge the horse with my heels leaving Bree as the sentry opens and then shuts the gate behind me.

I quickly turn the mare north, she is used to short journeys and plowing fields but she really is also fast and well groomed. I briefly wonder if the girl who was looking at me earlier today and who I saw dead in the street used to take care of her.

Although no mighty steed, the nag and I make good distance with me leading it on trails known only to rangers who have patrolled eriador since childhood. By midday we are over halfway there but I see tracks from a large force going north at a rapid pace. I do not know whether or not to worry, they are too large a force to fight but my people will see them and disappear long before they are caught. Nonetheless I spur the tired horse on until we are near Fornost. The site of an ancient battle when my people still held numbers and might and defeated the witch King of angmar. Here I see the tracks split, they all speed up with many small parties going off in separate directions and I follow one that leads most in the direction of my mother's last camp area. I dismount and creep along on foot when I see something in the plains. When I get closer, I see that it is two orc bodies shot by arrows from Dúnedain bows. I run up to the ridge from where the arrows must have been shot where the tracks also lead. They are fresh, hours or less old. When I crest the hill I stop. Four Dúnedain and at least twenty orc bodies litter the area. I stagger when I see that the Dúnedain bodies have had their heads taken as trophies. I see more tracks from orcs moving on and signs of the original camp. From what I see, the Dúnedain must have seen the orcs but the circling packs closed in and these four stayed to slow the attackers for the others. Now it is night but the moon is full and still I follow the trail hoping to find more of my brethren alive whilst I grieve for my mother. The next hill opens on a plain near to a gorge and more hills beyond, I walk along the edge of the gorge and found two more bodies of rangers with many slain orc carcasses about them. Recent signs of orc and fainter signs of my kin entering the gorge glared at me from the rocky dirt and I sprint alongside the small canyon to another entrance I know, just before I get there, I turn a corner and see ten more Dúnedain alive at the bottom but my joy is short-lived when I see that they are cornered by the rest of a broken orc pack. Without hesitation, I slide to the edge and again shout " _O Elbereth Gilthoniel!"_ And leap the last ten feet or so onto the rear of the orcs with knife in hand. I quickly dispatch two before the rest can react and the rangers at the front rally at my cry hewing at the leaders with swords. Two long minutes later we unite near the middle and I toss aside the crude orc blade that I had picked up to use. Carandir is here and we embrace. " _Is this everyone?"_ I manage to ask. " _I do not know"_ he chokes out "but your mother, and Rhar…" " _I know, I saw. But we must get to safety and find the others"_ I look behind him and see four men and women who were old even for our lifespans along with three young women and two young men, all just under their first twenty years looking back at me with admiration. We make haste now out of the canyon and behind one of the hills where there is a crevice. Each of us enter one at a time Carandir going first and I last. Inside it opened into a decent cavern with simple supplies and places to rest. This is the refuge that my mother and the others died so that the others could reach. And these are who they died to save. I look around at the ragged expressions of the ten around me Carandir took me aside and explained his end of the last two weeks. " _It was quiet."_ he mourned " _I scouted for a fortnight due West and then around to weather top but the orcs were gone and I guessed their plan. I took a shortcut to the camp and made it back just ahead of the advance party which we destroyed a mile east. This morning we prepared to leave and circle around to safety when we saw the distant dust kicked up by the orcs. At least fifty of them broken from the main party, all in packs closing in. Before we could flee, they encircled us. Your mother and three others stayed to throw the orcs off but they were already too close and were able to follow us. Rhar and Millyn stalled them again at the mouth to the gorge. That left only me to protect the young and old. We started ahead but the terrain slowed us and although some of the young ones could wield a sword we would have been overwhelmed without you."_ This agreed closely to what I had already inferred "you saved them Carandir" I reassure him but we both still feel the gravity of our circumstance. I briefly explain the events in Bree and he nodded. We conferr a little longer and Carandir being my senior by thirty years addresses the rest, " _we have lost much today and our journey has just begun. But tonight we can rest and tomorrow we will gather our losses and continue East. The orcs were not sent against us but we were in their path, tomorrow we can start again, but we will always remember our lost and those who sacrificed for us."_ Here he looked at me and I nodded my agreement. I have always been quiet and grim even for a Dúnedan, but now even more I keep to myself. I am too exhausted and devastated to be uplifting. As we settle down I lay quiet, thinking. I am proud of my mother but I still miss her. I have not seen her much in the last ten years. When I turned twenty, I began my travels. I had already trained in weapons, our ancient history and customs, and dwelt with the elves at rivendell. My travels took me over every place in eriador such as Bree and the shire, rivendell and beyond meeting lords such as Elrond and Tom Bombadil. I spent a whole month with Radagast the brown and met Gandalf the Grey. I learned to ride with the rohirrim and traveled to strange lands past Harad and more but none of it has prepared me for now, although another sixty years of life would not have been enough either. As I think, I realize a humbling fact. I am one of the last of my kind. There are more Dúnedain, however few in Minas Tirith already, at least I hope. But my cousin Aragorn and I are the last direct descendants of Isildur and Elendil. Now I need to sleep though and I slow my mind to gentle thoughts of the sea sung about in verses of high elvish by my mother years and years ago.


End file.
